


Lurking with Mercury

by witchy_teacup



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1976, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And a bit angsty, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale secretly likes Queen, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley was friends with Freddie Mercury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hijinks & Shenanigans, It May Have Taken Over Four (More) Decades But They Got Their Happily Ever After, Light Angst, Lovesick Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Rating has changed, Smut, Song fic, Song: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, The First Day of the Rest of Their Eternity, Then it got serious, This was all very silly, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), You Have Been Warned, but still sweet, lurking, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22817083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_teacup/pseuds/witchy_teacup
Summary: Another night of drunken lovesick rambling quickly leads to hijinks and shenanigans when Freddie Mercury suggests that he and Crowley go spy on a certain angel.*Edit: Now updated with the long-promised smutty sequel!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Freddie Mercury
Comments: 12
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

London, England 1976

Crowley took a swig from his bottle, then gestured with it at his companion. “S’not fair, you know,” he slurred in the manner of a very drunk person trying to make a point, “he’s too damned pretty what with those eyes and those plush lips telling me I go too fast—six thousand years, Freddie!”

Freddie giggled as he watched his friend and muse slouch so far he fairly melted out of his chair and into the floor. “You know, you’ve never even shown me a picture of this guy, Tony,” he said conversationally as he joined the demon in the floor.

Crowley groaned, “He won’t take a picture with me! Says it’ll look like we’re fraternizing.”

Freddie frowned. He took a pull from his own bottle and said suddenly, “Where is this bloke? Soho? Let’s go—if I’m going to write another song about him, stands to reason I should get to see him in person!”

“What?” Crowley asked, sobering slightly. “No! No way, if he found out—“

Freddie waved a careless hand saying, “He don’t have to know! It’ll be a s-secret!”

Crowley bit his lip and said, “You wanna spy on the angel?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Freddie trailed off with a shrug. “Forget it. It was a bad idea anyway.”

Crowley fumbled his watch to see what time it was. “No, no, let’s go. ‘M good at lurking. Teach you a thing or two and we’ll go spyin’ on the angel,” he said, blearily wondering if Freddie was drunk enough not to notice if he sobered up a little bit.

Freddie and Crowley stumbled to the corner where a late night taxi took pity on them and stopped with only a slight demonic intervention. Crowley mumbled the address to the driver and sank back into the seat next to Freddie.

The cab dropped them off and Crowley surreptitiously sobered up just a bit.

“Where to now, Tony?” Freddie asked, pulling up his jacket collar against the light rain that had begun to fall.

Crowley sighed and started walking towards the familiar maroon store front on the corner. He glanced around before muttering, “This is it, Freddie.”

The two slender figures sidled up to the shop front windows, silhouetted in the warm golden light spilling from within.

“Oh, Tony, he’s cute!” Freddie said as he spotted the man he’d heard so much about from his friend.

Aziraphale picked up a book, examined the spine, then set it back on the stack. He walked closer to the window, and Crowley moved almost inhumanly fast, grabbing Freddie’s arm and yanking him down as the angel looked up directly at where they had been standing.

Freddie groaned and asked, “What the fuck, Tony? It’s not like he could see us.”

Crowley didn’t respond. He cautiously peeked above the stacked books that obscured the lowest part of the window. Aziraphale shook his head and picked up another book. 

“Aw, he’s going into the back.”

Crowley jumped at the sound of Freddie’s voice. He turned to see that Freddie had moved to look back in the window. Aziraphale disappeared into the back room of the shop.

“Guess there’s nothing we can do here now,” Freddie said, standing up and dusting himself off. 

Crowley frowned and stood up. “Come with me,” he said, ducking down the alley. Freddie shook his head but followed him.

Freddie eyed the high window skeptically. “Tony, I don’t know about this.”

Crowley tilted his head as he observed his handiwork. He had dragged two metal garbage cans under the high window that he was fairly certain looked into the back room. He nodded and said, “It’ll work. Come on, Freddie. I’ll give you a boost.”

Freddie sighed and let Crowley help him up onto the garbage can’s lid. He hooked his fingers onto the windowsill to steady himself as Crowley scrambled up next to him. 

They looked down into the room as Aziraphale settled into his favorite armchair by the fireplace.

“He really is cute, Tony,” Freddie whispered. “I can see why you like him so much.”

“Don’t say that so loud,” Crowley hissed, eyes wide with panic as Aziraphale looked up from his book suddenly.

Crowley overbalanced as Aziraphale’s bright gaze zeroed in on him. “Shit!” he exclaimed as the garbage can tipped, sending him flying.

Freddie gasped as a combination of Crowley’s flailing limbs and the other garbage can knocking into his sent him flying as well. The next few heartbeats blurred. Next thing he knew, he and Crowley were sprawled, unharmed in the alley. They lay there groaning and dazed until a door opened, spilling warm, golden light into the dark alley.

Freddie blinked up at a now familiar head of white curls framing a beatific smile filled his vision.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Aziraphale said as he offered Freddie a hand up. “Could I trouble you to join me inside, out of the rain, while we discuss why you were lurking in my alley?”

And that is how Aziraphale ended up with Freddie Mercury and Crowley on his sofa wearing twin sheepish expressions. He passed each of them a mug of hot, black coffee before settling back into his armchair. 

Aziraphale laced his fingers over his waistcoat and arched an eyebrow at Crowley. “Well, Crowley, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Crowley flinched at the angel’s tone. He didn’t sound angry, but Crowley could tell that he wasn’t pleased at finding the demon spying on him with a human of all people. 

Crowley took a deep breath through his nose and said, “Angel, this is Freddie Mercury. Freddie, Aziraphale.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Aziraphale said with a polite smile. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Freddie said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a sharp look as the demon groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can explain, Angel—” Crowley began, a desperate edge to his tone.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale said, holding up one hand. He turned his attention to Freddie. “All good I trust?”

Freddie smiled and said, “Of course! Tony here sings your praises nearly every time we talk.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale repeated, “Tony?” with a bemused expression. The angel shook his head and said, “Well, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my dear boy. ‘Tony’ has failed to tell me about you, so you’ll understand why I am completely at a loss as to why you two were lurking around my shop?”

“Ah, I think that’s my fault,” Freddie said, pausing for a fortifying sip of coffee. “It’s all a bit blurry, but I think I asked Tony to prove your existence, and since he didn’t have a photo of you, we came down here.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said quietly, “I see.” He frowned momentarily, but he smiled again and said, “Crowley, my dear, if you wanted a photograph so badly, why didn’t you just say so? There’s no need to go around acting like so sort of spy, hanging off of windowsills and risking broken bones.”

“Yeah, funny that,” Freddie spoke up. “That was some fall, but I don’t even feel bruised.”

“Must have been the booze, man,” Crowley said tiredly.

Freddie gave him a disbelieving look, but he let the matter drop.

“So, Mr. Mercury, what do you do?” Aziraphale asked with a bright smile.

“I’m in a band,” Freddie said, relaxing a little.

“Oh, you’re a musician!” Aziraphale said with a delighted smile. “What instrument do you play?”

“Ah,” Freddie said glancing at Crowley for some clue as to how to proceed, “piano, but mostly I sing.”

“How marvelous,” Aziraphale said with another bright smile. 

He opened his mouth to ask for a demonstration, but Crowley jumped in, saying, “Hey, uh, Freddie, it’s pretty late. How about I get you a cab?”

Freddie frowned but Crowley gave him a look that was clear even through his dark glasses. “Uh, sure,” he said, nodding slowly.

Aziraphale said, “Oh dear, I suppose it is getting rather late.”

Crowley left the room to “use” the phone while Aziraphale topped off Freddie’s coffee.

They were chatting about Mozart and Bach when Crowley came back in. He sank onto the sofa again and stared into his coffee, wondering what his chances of getting to slip away without getting the third degree from the angel.

A honk from the street prompted Freddie to stand and say, “It was nice to meet you, Aziraphale.” He shook Aziraphale’s hand and waved to Crowley with a casual, “See you later, Tony.”

“Later, Freddie,” Crowley said, making no move to walk him out.

Aziraphale stood to escort him to the waiting taxi. As he left he gave Crowley a firm look that left no doubt that the demon wasn’t going to get away without answering some questions. Crowley sighed and miracled what little alcohol remained in his blood away. He’d need to either be fully sober or a whole lot drunker to deal with the coming conversation.

Aziraphale reentered the backroom a few moments later. He tugged on his waistcoat and smoothed a hand over his tartan ascot before he crossed the room to sit down next to Crowley.

Crowley sat up straighter than he’d ever sat before in his long existence as the angel’s warmth settled next to him. He practically jumped off the couch as a single, warm hand settled on his knee.

“Well, Tony,” Aziraphale said, the shortened version of Crowley’s chosen first name sounding odd in the angel’s posh accent, “my dear boy, it would seem we have something we need to discuss.”

“Ngk,” Crowley squeaked. His nerves were alight with the angel’s touch.

Aziraphale shifted closer and said, “I know that we must be careful when we’re together, but I had no idea that you were feeling this way.” He gave Crowley a mournful look, and said, “Dearest, I want you to know that I feel the same. I just cannot risk losing you, and that is why I must keep you at an arm’s length.”

“Angel,” Crowley said, voice strangled. 

“No, dearest, please, let me finish,” Aziraphale said, gently squeezing Crowley’s knee. He took a deep breath and continued, “I have hope that one day, we will be able to be together as we both desire. But, until then, my dearest love, we mustn’t lose hope.”

“Angel,” Crowley tried again, pulling his sunglasses off, “I know all this, but sometimes I can’t keep all these feelings in.” He hesitated but forged on, saying, “Talking about you, about us, helps keep me from just snapping one day and saying, ‘Fuck it’ and snogging you senseless, damn the consequences.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed. He leaned in slowly and when Crowley didn’t pull back, brushed his lips over Crowley’s, once, twice, and a third time, before pulling back breathlessly.

Crowley drew a ragged breath and said, “Angel, kiss me properly, or I swear to someone that I will discorporate.”

“Goodness, think of the paperwork,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, “’discorporated by an angel’. Suppose I’d get a commendation when word reached Upstairs.”

“Angel,” Crowley groaned, “don’t tease. It’s not nice.”

Aziraphale chuckled and said, “I suppose I’m not a very nice angel.”

“Just enough of a bastard,” Crowley groaned as Aziraphale cupped his face, pulled him into his lap and kissed him, long and hard. 

A few months later, when Crowley was giving Aziraphale a ride home from St. James’s Park after their covert meeting had been interrupted by an abrupt downpour, a song came on over the radio. Crowley glanced at the dial and the volume turned up slightly.

Freddie Mercury’s dulcet tones drowned out the rain hitting the windshield as he sang about a “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy”. 

By the time the song had ended and the Bentley had turned the volume back down to its previous murmur, Crowley was blushing. Aziraphale had been suspiciously quiet through the song, until they got to the lyrics about the Ritz. He’d glanced over sharply at that, several things clicking into place. 

As the Bentley came to a sedate halt in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale said firmly, “Do come in for a drink, Crowley.”

Crowley took a deep breath and steeled himself for the explaining he was going to have to do. He obediently followed Aziraphale inside. 

Aziraphale went through his normal routine, changing out of his coat in favor of his shop sweater, filling and setting the kettle to boil on the stove in the kitchenette. When he ran out of things to do, he turned to face Crowley who was fidgeting near the door.

“So,” Aziraphale said, tugging on his waistcoat, “that was a particularly interesting piece of beebop.”

“Ngk.”

“One might be forgiven for thinking that it was about,” he paused, smoothing his hands over the smooth velvet of his waistcoat nervously, “well, me.”

Crowley opened his mouth and closed it again. The kettle whistled and saved him from uttering another “ngk”.

Aziraphale fixed himself a cut of cocoa and a cup of Earl Grey for Crowley. He led the silent demon into the back room and settled into his armchair.

“So I take it that the charming young man you introduced me to is the one who sings that particular song?”

Crowley’s voice failed him, so he just nodded.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale hummed and took sip of his cocoa as Crowley fidgeted. 

“Angel!” Crowley exclaimed when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Please say something!”

“I’m quite flattered, dear boy,” Aziraphale said finally, taking pity on the twitchy demon. “I had no idea that your friend was so talented.”

Realizing that the angel wasn’t mad at him, Crowley finally found his voice. “Of course he is,” he said with a crooked grin, “only the best songwriter would do for you, Angel.”


	2. The First Day of the Rest of Their Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The long-promised smutty sequel/second chapter! 
> 
> What's another four decades of mutual pining to an angel and a demon?  
> Post-Armageddon't, Crowley and Aziraphale finally get to take their relationship to the next level.

After the world didn’t end, an angel and a demon enjoyed a leisurely, indulgent meal at the Ritz while a nightingale’s song went unremarked in Berkeley Square. When their meal concluded, Aziraphale and Crowley took the newly restored Bentley back to the restored bookshop. Crowley parked at the curb, but neither of them made a move to get out of the car as the enormity of what the past 48 hours had held seemed to dawn on them both.

“Come inside, won’t you, dearest?” Aziraphale said, his voice breaking under the onslaught of emotions.

“Sure, Angel,” Crowley said, sounding choked up as well.

Aziraphale tossed Crowley an uncertain, almost shy, smile over his shoulder as he rounded the Bentley’s bonnet, fiddling with his keys.

Crowley fumbled his key-ring as he unfolded from the driver’s seat, while Aziraphale dropped his keys outright. Aziraphale gave a little giggle as he bent to retrieve them, and Crowley dropped all pretense of not staring as he did.

Aziraphale caught him staring and flushed under the intensity of Crowley’s gaze that his dark glasses failed to hide. He gave another brief, shy smile, before he finally got the key into the lock. He pushed the door open but made no move to go in. Instead, he stood in the doorway, holding the door, and said, “After you.”

Crowley prowled across the sidewalk, and, letting his glasses slide down a bit, met the angel’s gaze boldly as he purposefully brushed against him as he passed. Aziraphale all but tumbled into the bookshop behind him.

The instant the door swung closed, Crowley pinned Aziraphale up against it, holding him by the lapels of his coat. A faint clattering of sunglasses hitting the floor from deeper in the shop was the only sound as luminous yellow eyes met stormy blue.

Aziraphale was the first to move. His hands skated under Crowley’s blazer skimming down the angles of his slender waist to cup the subtle curve of his hipbones.

Crowley groaned at the sensation of those soft hands on him. He let out a strangled breath as Aziraphale pulled him flush against him, soft curves and harsh angles fitting together like two halves of a whole.

One of Aziraphale’s hands anchored itself at the base of Crowley’s spine, just brushing the curve of his arse, as the other moved to cup the nape of his neck to pull his mouth down to the angel’s.

The kiss scorched through them both, leaving them gasping for unnecessary breath when they parted. “Come upstairs?” Aziraphale panted, tone halfway between a plea and an order.

Crowley nodded, silver tongue failing him yet again in the face of the angel’s desire. By unspoken agreement they refused to stop touching, linking hands as Aziraphale led the demon up the spiral staircase and through a rarely used door squeezed between two overflowing bookcases.

Up another short set of stairs, through a cozy sitting room heaped with even more books, and down a short hallway, Aziraphale led Crowley, sneaking glances over his shoulder and smiling as he led the flushed demon into his bedroom.

Aziraphale turned to face him, expecting a smirk and a smart comment on his taste in interior decorating, but Crowley’s bright gaze was fixed on him. He blushed as Crowley slid his coat off, gently, almost reverently. Crowley gently hung the well-loved coat in the antique wardrobe by the window. He chuckled at the sight of a familiar brocade of a vest even older than the one the angel was currently wearing.

As Crowley crossed the room, Aziraphale said nervously, “I couldn’t bring myself to truly get rid of it. Too, ah, too many fond memories.”

The demon just smiled and shrugged out of his blazer. He tossed it carelessly over an armchair that was nearly identical to the angel’s favorite chair in the backroom downstairs. He started unbuttoning Aziraphale’s waistcoat with far more care and patience than the angel would have guessed he possessed. Again Crowley crossed the room and with the same gentle care, the waistcoat joined its short-lived predecessor and the coat in the wardrobe. 

Crowley’s own waistcoat joined his blazer along with his skinny silver scarf. He hooked a long finger under each strap of the angel’s braces near his waist. He slid his fingers up along the straps, making Aziraphale shiver as his fingers brushed over his curves.

“Kiss me, Crowley,” Aziraphale commanded, his shaky, breathy tone at odds with the authoritative words.

Crowley leaned down and captured Aziraphale’s lips in a slow kiss. The angel groaned and tried to press closer, but Crowley pulled back, breaking the kiss. Crowley trailed his hands down Aziraphale’s arms as he shoved the braces off the angel’s shoulders. 

Aziraphale pouted and whined, “Crowley.”

Crowley arched an eyebrow and asked, “What, Angel? Too slow?”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said snippily. He hooked his fingers in Crowley’s belt and yanked him against him. Then he started tugging impatiently at Crowley’s shirt, eager to get his demon more undressed.

“What if I wanted to take our time, Angel?” Crowley asked, in an amused tone.

“Too bad,” Aziraphale said, finally succeeding at freeing Crowley’s shirt from his jeans. He shoved the thin shirt up to Crowley’s collarbones before leaning down and placing open-mouthed kisses on both of Crowley’s nipples. 

Crowley gasped then chuckled, raising both eyebrows as he said, “Oh really? Didn’t want to go too fast for you, Angel.”

“While I appreciate the care with which you were handling my garments, dearest,” Aziraphale said, tone remarkably calm, “I would greatly appreciate if you could speed up just a bit.” He pulled Crowley’s shirt the rest of the way off, over his head. “We have the rest of eternity to do this every way we can think of, but right now, I find I am rather impatient to have my way with you.”

Crowley’s expression nearly matched the one he’d given Aziraphale in Eden on the wall before the first rain. “You what?” he asked echoing his words from that first meeting.

Aziraphale straightened and something about his demeanor shifted ever so slightly, abruptly reminding Crowley that beneath his soft angel’s exterior was the power of a principality. “I know you heard me, Crowley. Now,” he said, trailing his soft hands up Crowley’s torso, “without a miracle, I’m not quite sure I can remove your trousers while leaving your dignity intact.” He gave the demon a smug little smile and said casually, “Now be a dear, and take care of them for me.”

Crowley made a strangled sound as Aziraphale crossed to the dressing table and unhooked his cuff links. He set them in a shallow pale blue glazed dish then tugged his bow tie loose, leaving it folded next to the dish. 

When the angel turned around, in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, Crowley nearly fell over at the sight as he struggled with his ridiculously tight trousers. Aziraphale chuckled and wrapped one warm hand around one of Crowley’s biceps to steady him.

Once the demon had successfully thwarted his trousers, Aziraphale stepped back and gave him a slow once over, desire plainly written on his features. He circled the demon, humming approvingly, as he finished undressing. When they were finally on even-footing again, Aziraphale said, “Lay down, my dear.”

Crowley scrambled into the ridiculously plush bed and perched at the base of the mountain of pillows that was piled at the headboard. He bit his lip as Aziraphale climbed into bed. The angel gently but firmly pushed him back and moved to hover over him. 

Aziraphale claimed Crowley’s mouth with a fiery kiss, sliding his tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss. Crowley moaned into the kiss and took a handful of pale curls to anchor himself.

Crowley panted and moaned as the angel broke the kiss and trailed a path of heat down his throat to fuse his mouth to his collarbone. The demon squirmed and writhed as Aziraphale lapped, sucked, and nipped at that spot, sending shock-waves of pleasure through him.

Crowley had only a moment to register the sensation of feeling his heartbeat where the angel had been lavishing attention before Aziraphale had kissed a trail down to his nipples. Crowley gasped and moaned as Aziraphale teased his nipples. 

Aziraphale worked his way down, teasing with lips, teeth, and tongue, until he reached Crowley’s Effort. He hummed appreciatively before licking a stripe from root to tip. He hovered over it and said, voice a little rough, “Look at me, Crowley.”

Yellow eyes that hadn’t realized that they had closed fluttered open and met Aziraphale’s. Once Aziraphale was certain that Crowley as looking at him, he wrapped his lips around the head of his Effort. He maintained eye contact as he slowly took more and more of him into his mouth. He took him as deep as he could, keeping his bony hips pinned to the bed as he writhed with pleasure.

Crowley dug his fingers into the bed, gasping as he felt himself bottom out at the back of the angel’s throat. He watched as Aziraphale started moving up and down along his length. Aziraphale swirled his tongue around the head, and Crowley shuddered. “A-An-Angel!” he gasped, fingers scrabbling against the bedspread, hips straining against the angelic strength holding him. 

Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgment of Crowley’s stuttered warning and took him in fully again. He watched as Crowley’s eyes widened and went a little glassy as he came, filling his mouth with his spend.

Crowley panted and moaned low in his throat as Aziraphale swallowed around him and licked him clean. 

“Simply delicious, my dear,” Aziraphale said, dabbing at the corner of his mouth as he sat up. He smiled down at the panting demon who was trembling a little with aftershocks. “I’m going to prepare you now, if you think you can handle it?” he said giving him a look laced with concern. 

Crowley nodded and shoved a shaky hand through his disheveled hair as he blew out a breath. He blushed as Aziraphale gave him a bright, pleased smiled. He watched as the angel fumbled in the drawer in the bedside table before pulling out a bottle of lube. 

Aziraphale rolled the bottle between his hands, using the heat of his body to help warm the lube up in a practiced motion. He poured a little in one hand and slicked a couple of fingers, settling back in between Crowley’s spread legs. He glanced up and gave Crowley a little pleased smile as he circled one of his slicked fingers around Crowley’s entrance. 

Crowley bit his lip as he watched Aziraphale watching him. He gasped as the teasing touch turned to one of exploration, the manicured fingertip breaching him gently. 

Aziraphale gave an excited little exhale as he felt Crowley’s entrance squeeze around his finger. He gave an experimental little wiggle before gently pressing in deeper. He slowly worked Crowley open. By the time he was three fingers deep, Crowley was gasping and writhing beneath him.

“Please, please, Angel, ohhh,” Crowley panted. He opened his eyes to give the angel a pleading look as he tried to cant his hips to draw his fingers deeper. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Aziraphale slicking his Effort with lube.

Aziraphale smirked and said, “Yes, dear?”

Crowley groaned as the angel’s fingers stilled. “Ngk.”

Aziraphale gave himself a couple of lazy strokes and said, “Darling, pick a language, but you have to use your words. Tell me what you want, and I will give it to you.” He punctuated his statement with a firm twist of his fingers inside of Crowley.

Crowley bit back a whine and twined his fingers in the sheets at the sudden spike of pleasure that assaulted his senses. He forced himself to breathe deeply and tried to string together a coherent sentence slowly. “Angel, I want your cock. Inside. Now. Please.”

Aziraphale gave him a brilliant smile and said, “Thank you, my love, for asking for what you want.” He shifted on the bed, and in two swift motions, he gave Crowley exactly what he’d asked for. He buried himself to the hilt, and they both moaned as he bottomed out. 

“Oh Crowley,” the angel moaned, “you’re perfect...”

“Angel, my Angel,” Crowley rasped out, digging his hands into Aziraphale’s soft sides. He leaned up and captured the angel’s mouth in a sloppy kiss.

Aziraphale nipped Crowley’s bottom lip then pulled back and began to move. Crowley moaned and gasped and rocked his hips to meet the angel’s thrusts.

Aziraphale’s hips stuttered as Crowley’s eyes snapped open. Crowley shouted his name as he came for the second time. As the demon’s body convulsed around him, Aziraphale buried himself to the hilt and let his own orgasm overtake him.

Crowley smiled as Aziraphale collapsed on top of him. He wrapped one arm around the angel’s plush waist and brought his other hand up to twine in his soft pale curls. They curled together, thoroughly entwined in each other.

A little while later, wrapped in a fluffy robe from the angel’s wardrobe, Crowley followed a similarly dressed down angel downstairs. “Put on a record, love,” Aziraphale said, brushing a kiss over the demon’s cheek, “while I pop down to the wine cellar for a bottle or two?”

“Sure thing, Angel,” Crowley said, trying to act as if he wasn’t blushing. He watched Aziraphale disappear down a set of stairs before turning his attention to the angel’s impressive record collection.

Crowley flipped through records lazily, sure that his options would be limited by the angel’s opinion on ‘bebop’. As a result, he was completely flabbergasted as he flipped to a familiar album cover. 

This particular album featured a black background with a round brightly colored design surrounding a silver letter “Q” with a crown inside it. A pair of lions, a crab, a pair of fairies, and a phoenix were picked out in bright color around the “Q” over curling script reading, “A Day at the Races”.

Aziraphale found his demon clutching a record, mouth agape. “Crowley, my dear, is something the matter?” he asked, crossing the room with a dusty bottle in each hand.

Crowley’s wide, shocked gaze moved to meet the angel’s. His mouth opened and closed a couple times as he tried to speak and failed. By the time he’d finally found his voice, Aziraphale had deposited the wine on a random table and was leading him to the sofa in the backroom.

“Angel, you own bebop?!?” he shrieked, still holding the record in question.

Aziraphale glanced at the album and huffed, “Of course I made an exception for that particular record.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale an exasperated fond smile and said, “Just had to own the first pressing of the song written about you, huh?”

“Oh hush, you silly serpent,” Aziraphale huffed with an eye roll.

“Vanity is a sin, last time I checked, Angel,” Crowley said with a teasing grin.

Aziraphale stood and tugged on his sleep shirt in the same motion that he always used on his waistcoat and tutted, fighting a smile. He plucked the album from Crowley’s hands and went to the gramophone. Crowley retrieved the wine and poured them each a glass as Aziraphale started the music. 

With another faux annoyed huff, Aziraphale joined Crowley on the sofa in front of the fire and accepted the glass of wine as he settled into the worn cushions. He smiled into his wine as Crowley snuggled up next to him, draping his long bare legs over his lap. 

“Hey Angel?” Crowley asked about half a glass later.

“Hmm?”

“I guess Freddie made quite an impression on you, huh?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said with a far off look in his eyes, remembering that night back in 1976, “he seemed to be the most remarkable young man.”

Crowley smiled a little sadly, but he raised his glass to Freddie’s memory and snuggled a little closer to his angel as “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” started to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it! A whole lot of smut, topped off with a healthy dollop of fluff!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! I hope it provided some respite from a world that seems to have gone insane. 
> 
> Stay safe out there, my dears!

**Author's Note:**

> I confess that I've been listening to a whole lot of Queen lately, and it inspired me to finish this fic (which had been lurking half-finished on my hard drive for much longer than I'd like to admit). I absolutely adore the song "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy", and I cannot listen to it without thinking about these Ineffable Idiots. Add the "lurking with Mercury" prompt my wife added to my prompt notebook ages ago, and this fic was born. 
> 
> I have a half-baked idea for a post-Armageddon't sequel/epilogue to this, but I don't know if I'll end up writing it. It would probably end up being smutty, if I did try to write it...
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think! Comments and kudos make my day! Thanks for reading!


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